


Two by Two

by Witty_Whit



Category: Firefly
Genre: Age Difference, Bechdel Test Pass, Character of Color, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Insanity, Massage, POV Alternating, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-30
Updated: 2011-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-15 06:19:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witty_Whit/pseuds/Witty_Whit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slightly AU, set after Serenity. River begins to learn how to control herself. Simon, Inara, and Jayne help her out. Pre-Rayne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two by Two

**Author's Note:**

> I use a lot of River-speak. If it's confusing I'm sorry! Basically, when she's unstable, she speaks in third person, but when she's calmer and in control, she speaks in regular first person.

It was illogical.

Emotions defied order, reason, and sense. Sometimes they brought one to heaven's heights. Sometimes they dragged one through the pain and torment of hell. The good feelings did not balance out the ones that hurt. The fact that humankind held such highs and depths of passion was preposterous. And River flew higher and sank lower than anyone else.

The girl is dead.

Simon's medicines help. Makes still waters from raging rapids. Like the stories in three of the four Gospels, how the stormy sea was calmed (see, Preacher Man? I have been reading). They shut everything down; make the brain stop hurting; stop the screamings deep down inside. It is quiet, and she sleeps.

Simon tried to explain about her amygdala and how the feelings just can't, can't stop coming, but he's so slow – she understands already. Why? _why?_ _ **why?**_ is harder to comprehend.

When she awakens, she throws up (Not in Simon's bed; I'm alone now). She feels sick, and the tears come, scorching and brackish. And all those bad feelings come rushing back. And she wants to feel dead again.

Sometimes, being dead inside makes her wonder if she is dead on the outside too. So she refuses to take the medicines. Simon protests. Captain threatens. But she wins.

A few hours of feelings, while Kaylee and Wash play with me. Those are good days, when I am overflowing with laughter and joy. "And then my heart with pleasure fills, and dances with the daffodils." I am healing, I am mending.

But those happy times make it so much harder when the bad ones come back. Fear. Anger. Sorrow. Guilt. Horror. Grief. Once one comes, the dam bursts, and they all flood. She tumbles in the rush of the sea, like a wave on the rocks. She's drowning. Too much. _Too much!_

It is a relief when the Captain or Jayne's arms wrap around her. She screams louder to drown out the sound of tears seeping from Kaylee's eyes. Simon runs, doctor face, and just a little prick. Darkness. Sleep. Strong, warm arms carry her, and she is cold when they are gone. But she doesn't care.

Most days, she lets Simon give her medicines. Easier than the highs and lows. But her insides are out, and Simon worries. "It's not right, but I'll figure it out," he promises. Again and again. He is Simon and she trusts him (but honestly, I thought he was a doctor!). Patience, she promises. They are no long illegal and can go to any hospital, but no one likes it. Too many questions. "What's all this medicine for, Doctor?" "What happened to her?" "What kinda ship you flyin,' Captain?" "Weren't ya the people who, er… nevermind." "I'll need to see some identification." "Let me talk to her." "Poor girl." "Poor dear." "Poor thing!" Too much! She cries, but only more questions come. They leave in a hurry. River laughs.

Next time, Simon promises. There's a new drug. New treatment. New therapy. She rolls her eyes. Simon never lies, but he never tells the whole truth. She knows it anyway. Too obvious to try to hide it. It would be depressing, if she gave a crap.

One morning, she is sitting very nice and calm as Inara brushes and braids her hair. Her feet dangle through the railings as she sits on the cushion Inara insisted upon. Her scalp tingles satisfactorily. She hears footsteps on the stairs behind her.

"No, Simon. I am being good."

Patient. Soothing."I know you are, _Mèi mei_ , but this is a new combination. I was talking to a neurosurgeon on Persephone and he said—"

"She doesn't care what that idiot said!"

Calm. Warning. "River, you're upset."

"Yes." She tries to relax. To focus on Inara's hands still in her hair. On the happy, rumbling white noise of _Serenity_. On breathing in. On breathing out. Good things.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Simon staring out me. His face would be inscrutable to anyone but his sister; he was cautiously curious. I tried to smile. I could tell the instant he made a decision. "All right, River. No medicine today. I'll be nearby if you need me."

"Of course, _Gēge_ – I will try very hard."

Sad. "I know."

He leaves. I close my eyes. His footsteps travel down the metal grate-stairs and pause at the bottom. It is calming to solve a puzzle, and I listen harder. He moves again forward, then stops. The exercise bench squeaks just slightly as he sits down. I smile. A month ago, he would have fastidiously wiped it down with bleach if he could get it, never mind actually sitting on it. (I wonder if it has to do with the increased amount of particulates that float and settle in the engine room. He spends exponentially more time in there now.)

I open my eyes when Inara's hands stop. I look back at her, wondering.

"All finished, sweetheart. Would you like to go see?"

I shake my head. Calm is here. Who knows what is elsewhere? I pat the crown of my head; she had gently twisted it before weaving it in a long plait down my back. It feels loose and weightless. Not tight and heavy like M—I shudder.

Immediately, Inara's hands touch my shoulders. I slowly relax again as she kneads my shoulders and upper back. She is peaceful. I am peaceful. Her touch links us, and when I am willing her emotions can soothe mine. I wonder why I never noticed that before—

A voice below interrupts my contemplations. "Hey, Doc, ya usin' the weights or just sittin' on 'em like a pansy?"

I open my eyes and lean forward. Jayne has strode (his only method of transportation) into the cargo hold, and now towers over Simon. I whisper to Inara, "Simon is not a pansy, he is an apple blossom." I say louder, "Jayne is a thistle – big, covered in spikes, with a funny, purple hat!"

Jayne looks affronted, "My hat is orange, girlie!" He glares up at me before turning back to Simon, who has stood. "Well, Doc?"

"You can use the equipment, Jayne." His voice drops, "I was just keeping an eye on River." (Simon is a terrible whisperer.)

Jayne sits and hesitates. "You can spot me if you wanna stick around. Unless you got something better to do." His voice is a tinge bitter, and I surmise he is speaking of Simon's new living arrangements. I lean forward against the railing. I suspect I am not the only one who is discomfited by new romances.

"No, I'll spot you, Jayne." He stands to the side as Jayne lays down and readies himself. "What… um, what exactly does one do while spotting?"

Jayne's snort makes me giggle, and I can feel Inara smiling behind me as well. "Stand behind me and keep your arms ready to catch the weights if I'm about to drop 'em and crush myself. Not that I ever do."

"Oh, right." Simon moves into position.

He leans over, until Jayne states, "Can't see what I'm doin,' Doc. Ya don't need to hover."

I watch them carefully, curious. Inara's gentle hands on my back quiet my subconscious, and my mind is occupied on this new game Simon and Jayne play.

"So, Doc, didn't ya (grunt) give your sis her (grunt) meds today?"

Simon glances up at me. I quickly shut my eyes. An ostrich. Slowly he explains, "No… not today. She's calm."

"Sure. Calm (grunt) before a storm. Seems we seen (grunt) too many of those."

"Less and less – that's what I hope, anyway."

"Hopin' ain't goin' (grunt) just make her all better."

"I know that, Jayne." I can picture him rolling his eyes. "But I'm getting nowhere with the medications. Every time I think I've got it figured out, it's just…"

"Wrong."

"Yes, Jayne, wrong."

"You ever try (grunt) anything else?"

"What would you suggest?"

"I dunno. Iffen (grunt) I ever acted out like her, (grunt) my Pa woulda skinned me alive."

"I hope you're not suggesting that I beat my little sister!"

"Don't get your (grunt) knickers in a twist, Doc. All I meant (grunt) sometimes you gotta do somethin' more, (grunt) what's the word, hands on?"

Simon lowers his voice again, "She does seem calmer now, doesn't she?"

I hear the clang as the bar drops back into place and Jayne sitting up. The rough scratch of a towel across his damp face. "I s'pose. Want a turn, Doc?"

My eyes peek. Simon looks surprised, and he stutters, "I-I don't really – I mean, I've never…"

"Shoot, Doc. It ain't brain surgery. I'll take off some weight. You should start gettin' more physical yerself, iffen you wanna be of more use other than doctorin.'"

Simon glares. "I hope, Jayne Cobb, that you are not presuming to call me a weakling."

Jayne's face was wide-eyed innocence. "'Course not, Doc."

A new twist in the game, a challenge issued. "Simon's too competitive," I whisper to Inara, "he has to play."

Without further hesitation, Simon shrugs off his coat and unbuttons and removs his white shirt leaving only an undershirt beneath. He sits down, twists, and lies down on the bench, ready to go.

"Your brother is probably the only male within an entire light year who wears an actual undershirt," comments Inara, smiling.

Jayne removes a few weights, but left several still on. He grins, "Lemme know if that's too much for you to handle."

Ignoring him, Simon raises his arms, lifts the weights off their holder, brings the bar level with his chest, and raises it again. He raises and lifts it again. A third time. I watch the rhythmic movements.

Jayne looks impressed. "Didn't think you could do it."

"I know," gasps Simon. I smile; he won't be able to say much more.

"See, Doc, physical exercise is good. Shuts the brain up." Jayne looks up at me. "Your sis's real calm now, probably 'cause she's getting' one of Inara's magic massages." He winks at Inara, who lets out an unladylike snort, and then turns back to Simon. Jayne realizes that Simon wasn't able to do much talking back. "She's calmer when people are touchin' her or when she's busy doin' stuff. Thinkin' too much – just ain't good for nobody."

With a gasp, Simon pushes the bar up one last time; then drops it into place. He sits up slowly, rubbing his arms ruefully.

Jayne passes him a clean towel. "Don't think I've ever seen you sweat, Doc."

Simon just grabs the towel. After wiping himself down, he states, "As much as I hate to admit it, Jayne, I think you may have a point about River."

"Really?"

"Yes. I may be too concerned about what is going on inside her mind and with trying to fix it from the inside out. Perhaps, I should try to fix it from the outside in."

"Whatever you say."

"No, I mean it. Medicine dulls her every sense, knocks her out and makes her sick, or does absolutely nothing. It's obvious that I'm not getting it right yet, but while I work on that, I should look into other treatments as well."

"Yeah, Inara can't keep givin' her a massage forever." I stick my tongue out at him.

Simon gathered up his shirt and coat. He considers putting them on, but frowns instead, "I need a shower."

Simon leads the way up the stairs. "You know it might be interesting to try—"

"Why dontcha just ask her?"

"Oh. Yes." Simon and Jayne have made their way up to Inara and me. We look up at them. "Well, River, what do you think?"

"I think you smell gross."

Jayne guffaws, Inara laughs lightly, and even Simon has to smile.

"River, what do you think about what we we're talking about? How do you feel when you're doing something physical?"

I blink at him. How was I supposed to explain? To much all at once – thoughts fighting for control.

"Do you feel calm and relaxed when, for example, Inara is doing your hair or Kaylee is hugging you?"

"You're leading the question."

"River."

I roll my eyes. How does he expect me to answer a question when he uses such obvious logical fallacies?

"River."

Fine. I sigh, to let him know my disappointment at his departure from reason. "Touch can upset or still."

"How?"

"Good touch and bad touch. Repetition is good. Firm, but gentle is good." I struggle to find the right words, pulling them out of the tangled mess in my head. "White noise, air breathing, the sun, gravity, warm arms, happy thoughts, patience – those are all good." I breathe; it hurts to dig so deep, to make sense to them. "I want control over myself."

Inara rubs my back, and Simon kneels down in front of me. I fall forward into his arms. Tears come.

I open my eyes, and see Jayne looking down at me as he leans against the bulkhead. I pull back. "You really stink, Simon."

Once Simon gets an idea, he's very tenacious – won't let it go. I'm not sure what bribed Inara with, but she gives me massages all day long until her fingers cramped, and I whine about bruises forming on my shoulders. Kaylee keeps trying to give me hugs, until Simon explains that quick contact wasn't helpful for me, just constant or repetitive motions instead.

Keeps me grounded. Anchored.

It's been three days since he's given me medicines. I feel. I feel everything. When it is too much, I lay down and listen to _Serenity's_ heartbeat or I lift a barbell over and over again or teach Kaylee a new dance step. I keep as busy as possible. I comprehend.

Simon is happy. Worry eases from his face. I don't think about what will happen if I mess up. She will break his heart. She will have to take medicines. She will die again. She—must not think. Must breathe. In and out. Find myself. Find me.

I focus on the little, but so important things. Tranquility in business of body and respite of mind. I am finding rest. Ease. Stillness in the storm.

My family is calm and helpful; I sense worry underneath, hidden. I ignore it. They are afraid that I will turn on them again. Let the emotions out. They don't know that my emotions are always out, but I am focusing on the good ones instead. A babe no longer lost in the woods.

"Jayne is and is not a girl's name." Jayne looks up at me, and I sense his confusion and growing annoyance with my presence. He does not realize that I am trying to make peace. The olive branch.

"Fool girl, you know I'm a man!" Muttered under his breath, "Don'tcha?" He glares up at me, "Now git yerself down from there 'fore you break yer fool neck!"

I straighten my legs from where they were looped around the topmost bar of the railing. I grab the lowest rail with my hands, arch my back, and swing my legs over, all the way over, and land, _almost_ silently on the ground next to him. "Satisfactory?"

Jayne grunts. I smile.

"Whatcha doin' playin' monkey? You know Cap'in don't like you down in the hold messin' 'round."

"New World or Old World?" I question.

"Huh?"

I sigh. "Is my tail prehensile or not?" Waves of confusion are rolling off him. "Do I come from South America or elsewhere?" I am growing annoyed. "Have you ever read a single book in your entire lifetime?"

Jayne has the grace to look affronted. "'Course I have! Jest not about… whatever it is yer talkin' 'bout!"

I realize that discussing literature with Jayne will not be enjoyable to either of us. "What are you doing down here? I am certain that you realize that Captain doesn't encourage you to do any 'messin' 'round' either."

"Cap'in don't care what I do! Long as I don't make a mess or at least clean up afterwards."

"Are you going to make a mess?"

"Not in particular."

Disappointed. I want a mess. I want to feel dirt under my nails and cake batter in my hair and paint on my toes. A moment of silence passes, me thinking of past messes and Jayne of nothing much at all.

"So, yer brother not around much anymore?" Jayne questions stiltedly.

"I have my own room now."

"Nah, I know that. I jest mean…" He trails off; I sense embarrassment and a twinge of guilt. I'd laugh if I hadn't so often felt the same way.

"You are feeling left out because Simon and Kaylee are one, Wash and Zoë are one, and Captain and Inara will become one just as soon as they stop fighting. I have often been feeling left out too. It is unfortunate that their happiness draws them away from us and makes us sad."

Jayne sputters.

"You don't agree? Is my conclusion inaccurate or incomplete?"

"Girlie, I don't know what you—" He stops suddenly, then continues. "You might jest be right. 'Snot like I don't begrudge 'em all good lives together, it'd be nice if they'd remember to come out of their rooms and say 'hey.'"

I nod my head sympathetically. "Two by two." His head shoots up. I clarify, "Animals in the ark."

"Mebbe if we ever get back to Nandi's ranch, I might…"

"They wouldn't fit right. Those girls don't belong on a ship."

"Hmph!"

"Perhaps, we can figure out this problem for you. Who would make a Jayne a good pair?" It's is an interesting problem. I _know_ what type of girl Jayne likes, but I don't know any in particular. Plus I have the feeling that Jayne might deep-down secretly prefer a sweet, home-spun, girl-next-door. I'm good with feelings.

Then it hits me. "Jayne it's so simple! Me!"

"You what?"

I'm excited. "At first I was thinking that Simon and I would make a good pair because we love each other and take care of each other, but he objects strongly to it, oddly enough." I ignore his exclaim of surprise. "You don't have anyone and you're a boy (despite the girl-name) and I don't have anyone and I'm a girl! Perfect. Match made in…"

"The darkest circle of hell, Girlie! You'd best shut yer trap 'bout this or Cap'in with throw me outta the airlock for real this time! Or Doc with challenge me to a duel or some such stupidness then Kaylee will be sore at me for killin 'im! Preacher'll curse me forever! Now no more of this crazy talk!"

I am more bemused than upset. This is the second time that someone has refused my completely logical proposal of marriage. Perhaps my reasoning is flawed somewhere. "I don't understand, Jayne."

" _How can you not understand!_ The idea of you… and… me is so wrong! It jest ain't done!"

"What part?"

"The whole dem thing! I don't know what you don't git about this! It's wrong all the way through!"

Someone other than me is growing upset. Unusual. "I am sorry, Jayne, if I have offended some moral code that no one knew you had."

"It ain't that – I mean, it _is_ that – but we ain't fit for each other."

I begin to protest – we are alike in many ways, our fighting skills for one – but he goes on ignoring me.

"I mean it, Girlie. Don't let me hear none of this fool talk comin' out your mouth or I'll git you 'fore they throw me out the ship."

Jayne is really upset. I pat his shoulder gently, only to comfort, but he jerks away. "All right, Jayne. I don't want you to be marooned and left for dead. I won't bring up the subject again."

Shuddering, Jayne pulls himself up together and stalks out of the hold.

I watch him leave. I don't understand – he only protested because of the reactions of the others, but showed no personal aversion. Jayne isn't one to usually give a thought to the opinions of others. Perhaps he is right. I wonder how right he is though – man and woman – people belong two by two.

**Author's Note:**

> Quotation from "I Wandered as Lonely as a Cloud" by Walt Whitman


End file.
